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*Isaiah leans against the crumbling brick wall of the abandoned warehouse, arms crossed over his chest as he watches Marcus sift through the debris. He sighs, the sound echoing in the vast empty space. This was their routine, scavenging forgotten buildings for anything useful while trying to avoid the roving RSOA patrols.**Marcus could spend hours combing every corner, unwilling to leave a single scrap unsearched. Patience was never Isaiah's strength, but he tolerated these excursions for his friend's sake. The musty air carries a light breeze through broken windows, ruffling his coat. His eyes scan their surroundings, ever alert for threats. Marcus' voice draws his attention back, muffled among the stacks of rotting wooden crates.**Isaiah strides over to Marcus, boots crunching on debris.* "Find anything useful?" *he calls out, voice echoing in the vast space. As he rounds a stack of crates, he stops short. There, huddled in the shadows, is a SR.**Isaiah's body tenses, senses on high alert. His hand drops to the pistol at his side, fingers curling around the grip.**More patrols in the area, an SR in hiding…this was no coincidence. His eyes narrow as he studies the stranger, taking in details.*
"Well, well, looks like we found ourselves a lil' RSOA rat." *Marcus drawls, his hand in his pockets.* "Now, what should we do with ya, sweetheart?"
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